Circle Jerks
by Krakatau
Summary: Uhura had thought her relationship with Spock had been exclusive, so what happens when she discovers otherwise?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One:**

Uhura walked quickly through the halls, focused more on reaching her quarters than the newness of the ship, or the greetings of her crew mates. She was frustrated and confused, and a little hurt besides. She heard someone call her name as they passed, but she did little more than quirk her head in recognition. She reached her door, entered her code, and nearly collapsed into the enfolding darkness.

Sensing her presence, the ship's computer adjusted the lights and air, and continued the Haydn Symphony she had been listening to earlier. She lay on her bed for a moment, and then sighed.

"Computer, discontinue aural ambiance."

The music faded, and stopped entirely.

She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Today in general hadn't been that stressful; in fact it was supposed to be fun. It had been the Enterprise's christening and resulting soirée, and indeed when she had left there was still a considerable amount of activity going on throughout the ship.

What was bothering her was the change that had come over Spock - gradual, nearly imperceptible - that had Uhura feeling left behind. He was spending more and more time with Kirk, both on and off bridge. Although she tried to tell herself this was natural behavior for a first mate and his captain, there was something else about it that didn't sit right with her.

What was so infuriating was that she couldn't figure it out, and that was leading her to believe these were just her own feelings. It was common, she told herself, for jealousy to occur when one's significant other spent time with his buddies.

But since when was Kirk a 'buddy'?

"Computer, continue aural ambiance."

Letting her mind spiral down these dark, answerless questions was useless. As Haydn once again filled her room, she closed her eyes and sighed, and tried to focus on the soothing music.

It hadn't been playing long when something else caught her attention; beeps from the buttons on her keypad, and the negative blaring honk that resulted from an incorrect code. Frowning, Uhura looked towards her door.

"Computer, discontinue aural ambiance."

Over the repeated beeps and honks, she heard someone grumbling, but the voice was too low to discern. Uhura stood and walked over to the door, and just before she reached it, the person on the other side speak a little louder:

"Dammit, how the hell am I supposed to keep all of these codes straight?"

Uhura pushed the inner keypad and the door slid open. Just as she had suspected, McCoy was standing there looking about as confused and frustrated as she felt.

He glanced up, then stammered. "Oh, Uhura, I ..." He looked about the hallway, then back at the scrawled note he was holding. He turned it around.

"Let me guess, it was a '9' instead of a '6'?"

"Something like that." He studied his note a little longer, then glanced back at her. For a moment, neither spoke or moved.

"Did you enjoy the, uh, party?" McCoy said, somewhat stilted.

"Well, yes, I ....yeah." She nodded slightly. "You?"

"It was nice, sure. It's easy to enjoy events like this when no one sprained anything."

They both chuckled nervously, and then the awkward silence resumed.

Uhura cleared her throat. "I should be getting to bed. I have a ... rather painful headache."

"Oh, I can fix that ..."

"No no no, thanks, but ... no." Uhura answered quickly, remembering Kirk and his slight 'reaction'. "I think all I need is sleep."

"Oh ... okay." McCoy replied. Uhura tried not to smile; he looked rather crestfallen.

"Good luck finding your room." She said before easing back into her room and closing the door. She thought she heard him mumble something on the other side, but she couldn't be sure.

She turned and leaned back against the door, and caught herself smiling. It didn't solve her issues concerning Spock and Kirk, but it did help take her mind from it, if only for a moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

After Uhura's door closed on her somewhat impish expression, McCoy stood a few more moments, trying to figure out how he had confused rooms. The '6' had been a '6, but it was possible the '4' was really a '9', but if he held it at this angle, it looked like a '7'.

"I must be a doctor, I can't even decipher my own handwriting," he mused. He looked back at Uhura's door number, and noticed for the first time "Lieutenant Uhura" on a brass plate above the keypad. With a grunt, McCoy turned around and looked at the other doors in the vicinity.

He finally located his across and two doors down from hers, and indeed the '4' that could have been a '7' was, in fact, a '9'. How long had they been living on this ship had he failed to notice that? He shook his head, and went about the business of punching in the code for his own door.

_Honk!_

He frowned, then looked at his scribbled note again. Was that '1' a '7'? He punched it in again, with the slight variation.  
_Honk!_

He grumbled and cursed at it, and then a slight shuffling of feet and a quick succession of beeps caught his attention, and he looked left.

Kirk, suddenly standing frozen with a bewildered expression, had just punched in the appropriate code for the door next to him. He stood holding what looked to be one of the finer vintages of champagne that was specially kept in the galley; any number of drinks could be easily accessed from one's quarters, but apparently whatever occasion he was privately celebrating required the Good Stuff.

He was also holding two champagne flutes, which were not standard quarter dishware.

McCoy smirked and nodded.

"You saw nothing," Kirk mouthed, before disappearing inside. The door slid shut with a soft 'woosh'.

McCoy then noticed the nameplate above the keypad; Lieutenant-Commander Spock, First Officer. He chuckled, imagining Kirk's face when Spock would enter, instead of the giddy cadet that he was most likely anticipating.

Still laughing to himself at the mental image, he turned his attention back to the task at hand, tried a third variation, and finally gained access to his own quarters. Once he got in, he chortled out loud,

"Forget Kirk's face ... imagine Spock when he sees Kirk all laid out like ... oh, scratch that, 'surprised' is an emotion." He dropped his scrawled note on the table, grabbed up a data pad, and flopped on his bed, surfing through patient records. His mind wasn't really on it, though. He set the data pad back down.

He thought of Uhura.

He could have sent that headache running if she would have given him the chance. She was so ... passionate about everything; fiery, spirited. Certainly in a more toned down form than Kirk, but ... how could someone like her end up with someone like Spock?

Not that he was 'in the know', but, living on a ship out in the far reaches of space (even one as large and lavish as the Enterprise), things got around, and even someone who didn't care to know who was doing who was going to find out. It was too confusing.

"Computer, Music; Steve Reich, Different Trains, drink: Mint Julep."

As the minimalist musings of the 20th century composer filled the room, a glass was pushed out onto the counter. McCoy grabbed it up and nearly downed it on one shot, and then sat back down to enjoy the second half.

After his disastrous, short-lived, bitter marriage, he wasn't ready (and doubted he ever would be), to jump back in the dating ocean. It always confused him how people like Spock, who seemed completely unable to emote, and people like Kirk, who jumped anything with a pulse, always got the best girls.

Before he knew it, the glass was empty. He considered having it refilled, but decided against it. He tried reading more patient records and thought about horrible, disfiguring diseases, amputees, and gaping wounds to chase the lingering mental image of Uhura smiling back at him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

Spock went about lighting candles throughout his quarters with about the same pomp and circumstance that he did any other daily routine. The mood lighting, being an ancient Earth practice that began as necessity and gradually became luxury, was not for Spock's benefit but for his visitor. Humans, he had discovered, were rather quite responsive to such subtle enhancements. In one corner he had also lit a stick of incense, appropriately enough called 'musk', whose scent he knew for a fact was a favorite of his lover's.

And though he appreciated enough the reactions these small, inconsiquential touches evoked, the Vulcan side of him still regarded them with curious disdain, and had he not already conceded the result was worth the effort, he would have felt silly as he extinguished the match, gently blowing the flame out and depositing the remains in the trash receptacle.

The keypad outside his door beeped away quickly, and the door slid open. Spock cocked his head slightly, looking at Kirk with as much curiosity as one eyebrow could muster.

After a moment, Kirk entered and closed the door behind him. "Here we go," He said, brandishing the bottle he carried and setting two champagne flutes on the table. "The finest champagne the U.S.S. Enterprise has to offer!" He sniffed the air. "Incense! Nice touch!"

"I hope you were able to procure the beverages from the proper channels?"

Kirk shrugged as he worked the cork. "More or less." The cork popped off, bounced off the window, and ricocheted off of Spock's head. Spock picked it up and regarded it carefully as Kirk filled the two glasses.

"I do hope that by 'more or less' you mean that you did at least make an attempt to ask before you took the whole bottle?"

"Come on, Spock! The party's almost over up there, and there were still a few bottles left. I don't think I was the only one taking a whole bottle, alright? Hell, I saw Scotty walking off with two bottles of scotch!"

"Just because the majority performs a hitherto unaccepted behavior does not automatically make it accepted behavior."

"Thank you, Mr. Conscience." Kirk set the bottle down and took both of the glasses, perching himself on the table and leaning close in to Spock, handing him a glass. "You always have to be so morally upstanding?"

Spock took the offered glass and continued to watch Kirk levelly. "As opposed to your moral belligerence?"

Kirk leaned back and swirled the bubbles in his glass. "A little rule bending never hurt anyone ... I thought you would have remembered that from our first mission together." He held his glass out to Spock. "A toast."

Spock raised his glass a fraction, and then sipped as Kirk took a swig. Spock could not find the logic in toasting, but people (humans specifically) seemed to get upset if you at least didn't act with some acceptance and understanding of the practice.

As Kirk refilled his own glass, Spock watched him carefully. He wasn't entirely sure when the shift in emotions -- deep, nuanced emotions -- had occurred, but at some point he had gone from regarding Kirk with quiet loathing to wanting him with an intense fury. He seemed to be Spock's opposite, and so perhaps the old adage was true about opposites attracting, but Spock suspected it was also something else.

He would never be full Vulcan, or full Human, but he had spent his impressionable years on Vulcan and learning Vulcan and studying the Vulcan Way. Even though he had decided against joining the Science Academy and submitting himself to pure logic, he was still far more Vulcan in actions, thoughts, and nuance than human. There were times that he nearly envied Kirk, admired him, thought that he was a pinnacle of human behavior; emotion in its most raw form.

He would never be fully human, but he felt the closest in Kirk's arms.

Kirk himself had finished another glass, then went ahead and finished Spock's, and set the two glasses aside. He leaned in close, and put one hand behind Spock's head and gently stroked his hair.

"To believe, I hated you in the beginning." He smiled. He liked pointing out this fact, and it was still a riddle to Spock as to why he would repeat the sentiment. Was loathing truly so close to love as to be indiscernible from it?

Kirk leaned in closer, and their lips met, but the touch did not last long as the keypad beeped away and the door slid open before either of them had a chance to react.

Uhura was nearly inside before she noticed them, but it was obvious from her expression that she knew at once what wasgoing on, even if she didn't understand and would have trouble believing it.

Spock stood quickly, and Kirk wobbled and fell off the table. There were no words spoken, even though the intentions were there, and after another moment that seemed to hang on longer than it actually was, Uhura turned and ran out and down the hall.

Spock made as if to follow, but Kirk grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"You didn't tell her, did you?" he hissed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

Uhura had tried to sleep, but she couldn't focus or still her mind long enough to sleep soundly. Not even an hour after she had laid down to rest, she got up feeling even worse than before. She looked at the clock, then sighed and ordered the computer to discontinue her Haydn, which she had hoped would help her sleep. Her headache hadn't gone away either, and her shoulders had somehow tightened up during her short nap.

"This won't do at all," she said to herself. She tiredly dressed, then left her quarters and crossed the hall to Spock's door. After a quick scan to ensure she was alone in the hallway, she punched in his code. As the door whooshed open, she smiled at the anticipation of at least seeing him, if only for a moment, if only for reassurance.

What she saw caused her smile to drop immediately into anguished shock. She couldn't believe it was true, and yet her own eyes beheld Kirk and Spock, locked in such a passionate embrace, lips together, hands roaming, that neither noticed her at first.

She took a couple steps back, and then dashed over to McCoy's door and knocked feverishly. She couldn't explain why she had fled there first, but she was relieved at least when he opened the door and she could spill inside, close to tears and angry as hell. McCoy watched her, bewildered beyond description, as the door closed behind her.

"Uhura?"

"Why do guys do that? Why didn't I notice? Is it me, did I push him away?" She trembled, holding herself as she stared out the window into the large expanse of space beyond. Behind her, McCoy seemed to find some sort of bearing.

"Dammit, woman! I'm a doctor, not a therapist!"

"I'm sorry, Dr. McCoy." She said, softer, not turning around. She tried to sniff back tears, but she could not hold them. "I just ... well ... it's confusing ..."

McCoy stiffened. _Oh god, she's crying ..._ His ex-wife used to do that, usually to get what she wanted. He had never quite been able to figure what that was, so he decided to rely on what he wanted; "Uh, would you like something to drink?"

"Water."

"Computer; one water and one ... uh, water. Two waters."

Out slid two glasses. McCoy took them and handed one to Uhura, watching her with open concern. "Your headache that bad? I got something for that, back at sickbay ..."

Uhura shook her head, taking the water and sipping it gratefully. "I just saw something that ... I rather wished I hadn't."

"Really? What was it?" McCoy started scanning the ground. Was it possible for space ships to get mouse infestations? Or could it be something worse?

Uhura didn't speak for a moment. "I'm not sure I should ... talk about it." She finally answered, because if she said anything, it would be openly admitting she and Spock were involved, and they had both decided it was only logical that they avoid suspicion and ... no, no that had been Spock's idea, and Uhura had gone with it because ... because she had loved him. She sighed. "I ... uh, saw my lover with someone else." She said.

"Ah, that. Well, there's plenty of fish in the sea. You're a pretty girl, you'll find someone." That's what they want to hear, right? "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Uhura paused a fraction of a moment. "That's not important." She slammed back her water and set the glass down. "Computer, shot of Jack, straight up."

McCoy set down his untouched water. "Computer; Two Jacks."

A few hours later, McCoy set a glass down on the table. At least, he attempted to set a glass down on the table. His wobbly hands and the crowded table proved too much, and the little glass tumbled over the side. McCoy laughed. Whether it was at the fallen shot glass, or Uhura's story, he couldn't be sure.

" ... so then, Gaila asks me if I would be heading back to the lab that night. I knew at that point something was up, and after listening for a moment I heard breathing! Coming from under the bed!" She was having trouble breathing from laughing so much, and the remaining Jack in the glass she held was in danger of falling out as she waved it about in her storytelling.

"Let me guess, this time it was a girl, right?"

"No!" Uhura squealed, and then squeaked "it was Kirk!" She erupted in healthy, drunken laughter, leaning back against the wall and slapping the bed giddily.

"Kirk?!" McCoy wavered dangerously in his seat, eyes wide and unfocused and a large smile on his face.

Uhura nodded, gasping for breath. "He had no clothes on, except his briefs!"

It was McCoy's turn to laugh, and while he did, Uhura seemed to think of something that sobered her up some. She sat forward and held her head in her hands.

McCoy, noticing a little belatedly, stood and stumbled over to sit next to her. "What is it?" He tried to say. It came out "whuzzit?"

Uhura took a small, tremulous breath. She was crying again. McCoy put an arm around her. "I found Sp-my lover ... with ... another man."

McCoy blinked. He frowned. Uhura cried softly, leaning into him. McCoy looked down at her. It didn't make sense.

"He has be pretty damn gay to turn away someone as fine as you." He said at last, and not as slurred as he had expected.

Uhura looked up at him. Her mascara was running, and she'd smeared her eyeshadow across her beautiful face. Then she gave a small, shaky smile, and she looked even more radiant.

McCoy kissed her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

"Doctor McCoy, the time is now oh-eight-hundred hours. Doctor McCoy, the time is now oh-eight-hundred hours." The computer's voice was feminine, british, and just soft enough that McCoy could ignore it for about five minutes. "Doctor McCoy, the time is now--"

"Computer, disengage alarm." McCoy grumbled, thinking 'brain, disengage hangover'. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened the previous night, besides the very large and well-lubricated party earlier that evening. Lying in bed, eyes closed, he tried to rememeber what had happened. He remembered the non-embarassing part of the night; mingling with admirals and captains and other officers and senior staff. He'd had a wonderful discussion about the benefits of adrenaline hyposprays in certain situations (and the danger of addiction thereafter) with Dr. Laurie of the U.S.S. Fry. He remembered a good portion of the night was spent watching Kirk curiously as he and Spock mingled as well, Kirk followed by an odd coterie of fawning women that he seemed to enjoy most immensely. McCoy had seen Chekov strike out fantastically with that red-headed lieutenant from the bridge.

McCoy remembered deciding to cut himself off from the champagne, and he remembered walking back to his quarters, but after that things got a bit fuzzy.

Then there was a sigh, not from him, and someone shifted in the bed and wrapped an arm around him. He became blaringly aware of he fact that, underneath the covers, he was naked, and not alone.

Whoever was with him was snuggled so closely against him that it was hard for him to move his head and get a good look. He was finally able to maneuver onto his side, gently shifting the sleeping person ...

McCoy paused, frozen. What was Uhura doing in his bed, and where were her clothes? At first nothing made sense, but then the previous night seemed to come back, all at once, and in Technicolor.

"Oh, crap." He said aloud, hardly louder than a whisper. He eased himself out of bed, grabbing the nearest thing he could find to cover his nether regions, and started rooting around for his clothes. "Crap crap crap crap crap."

Why were they all over the place? He found his pants in one corner, his shirt in another, and his underware hanging from one of the wall sconces. During all this, he had to step carefully over the landmines of Uhura's bra, panties, and other such feminine accouterments.

He was nearly finished dressing when Uhura sighed again, in the 'waking up' sort of manner, and let her arm roam the empty space for a moment before opening her eyes. Once she locked eyes on McCoy, she lay on her back, stretched, and smiled.

"Good morning, Doctor!" She said teasingly.

"Yes, morning. Good morning. I have do I have to things."

Uhura quirked her head.

"I mean, things ... things I have to do. In sickbay." Like get rid of this hangover and hide my face for a while.

"Oh, Leonard ... it's a holiday! We've actually got the chance to take things easy for a while!" She stood and stretched, seemingly unaware of her nakedness. McCoy turned, blushing.

"Well, you know ... they'll have the Enterprise up and causing trouble soon enough, just want to make sure everything's in order ..."

"Everything is in order, you know that well enough as I do!" She came up behind him and wrapped her arms about his chest, kissing the back of his neck. He put his hand on hers, at once feeling guilty for the embrace but at the same time finding it comforting and pleasant. Then, her hands started to snake downwards and he felt more guilty than pleasant. He pushed her gently away.

"Should we? I mean, really?"

"We did last night."

"Well, yeah, but ... your boyfriend ..."

Uhura chuckled. "He won't beat you up, don't worry." She furrowed her brow after a moment's thought. "At least, I don't think he will. And anyway, I can't call him my 'boyfriend' with any amount of faith after last night."

McCoy started collecting her clothes and handing them to her. "Perhaps you should tell him that. I'll be at sickbay, at least until I can get this hangover under control. If you need anything, uh, yeah ... that's where I'll be .. I mean, that's where you can get what you need ... as far as medicine goes."

Uhura looked a little crestfallen as she dressed, but McCoy saw her out and watched from his doorway as she crossed the hallway and entered her own quarters. Just as he was about to turn back to his quarters, he heard a soft woosh from the side. Out of a sudden paranoia about being seen in the general vicinity of Uhura, he ducked slightly back into his quarters, and peered around the corner. Kirk was leaving the same quarters he'd been in the previous night, sans bottle and glasses, looking around conspiratorially before he jogged softly to his own door. McCoy stepped back into his room and closed the door, leaning against it and wondering at what the hell had happened that night.


End file.
